


Key

by yeaka



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 21:26:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3183731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angie tempts her way into Peggy’s arms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Key

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I know zero about Marvel or American history beyond this show; heads up. This is for girlwiki’s “Sneaking in and out of each other’s rooms in the middle of the night” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Agent Carter or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Sneaking through the halls is nothing new to Angie, thought it’s harder now than it’s ever been before, because those were all experiments and spots of fun and this is something _grand_. It isn’t just a short romp in the sheets she’s looking for, a kind ear to hear about her day, a soft body under hers—it’s _Peggy_ , _Peggy Carter_ , and anticipation bubbles in Angie’s stomach with every new step, threatening to make her _run_. She’s thought of this all day, like she so often does, and the minute Peggy said, _“Yes, I will live with you,”_ Angie knew this was going to happen. 

She doesn’t know if she’s quite lucky to have Peggy just as interested. Luck doesn’t seem to have much to do with it. Angie saw someone she wanted, went for it, worked for it, works for it now through all of Peggy’s busy schedules and hushed quite, and they just _fit_. When Angie’s outside Peggy’s door, she stops for the regular nervous primping, even though there isn’t any time—fluffs her hair, smoothes out the fabric of her bust, straightens the apron wrapped tight around her skirt. She hasn’t even gotten around to pulling off her hat yet. She has a sneaking suspicion Peggy has a thing for uniforms, whatever form they come in, and she’d rather give Peggy the honour of removing it while she returns the favour. 

Finally, she raps a tiny knock on Peggy’s door, waits with baited breath and her ears ready, expecting their terror of a landlady to come up the stairs at any moment. Peggy’s at the door in one second flat, though the door doesn’t move. It shifts under Peggy’s weight, probably leaning up against it to check the peephole. Angie, smiling her most alluring smolder, poses on the spot. 

Muffled through the door, Peggy’s English accent hisses, _“Angie, we can’t.”_

“You don’t want me?” Angie pouts, calling back with that tricky play of just-loud-enough-to-carry-through-wood but not-down-the-hall. She can just imagine Peggy rolling her eyes on the other side, and when an answer doesn’t come right away, Angie whines, “C’mon, it’s no _men_ above the first floor; I’m allowed!”

 _“Then why are you sneaking about?”_ There’s an almost-chuckle in Peggy’s voice, and Angie wrinkles her nose; of course it’s true. They’d probably still get in trouble; _everything_ gets you in trouble here. But she and Peggy are two modern women that shouldn’t be burdened by such ignorance, and Angie _wants_ Peggy too much to give it up. She gives Peggy an imploring look and has to press her ear against the door to catch all of Peggy’s answer: _“After how loud you screamed last time, I don’t think we should be taking any chances this late.”_

Angie leans back to mock-scowl at the door. True enough, but she wouldn’t be screaming like that if Peggy weren’t so good with her hands and mouth, so it’s not all Angie’s fault. 

But she doesn’t have time to debate that. They could be caught right now, and then they’d be out on the streets, if not in a jail cell for their ‘immoral’ debauchery. So Angie reverts to plan B, stepping back from the door enough to give Peggy’s peephole vision a proper view of Angie’s upper body. 

She lifts her delicate fingers up to the pale-orange collar and makes quick work of the button holding it closed. As soon as it’s loose, she’s onto the next, practically ripping the fabric open, one button at a time. She does it with a practiced speed fueled on by hunger, though she has confidence that if she hears any footsteps from down the stairwell, she’ll get it done up again in time, or Peggy will pull her in. Peggy’s nothing if not protective. Angie undoes her entire front, right down to the apron, then grabs both sides and wrenches her top open, chin tilting up to give a better view. But she doesn’t last in that pose long; she completes the vision by grabbing her bra by the middle and jerking it up to snap taut against her collarbone, her pert breasts tumbling out of their confines. Without the cone-like lace to trap them, they bounce into their natural, round shape, smooth and ripe and rising forward with each breath, as if straining towards Peggy’s touch. Her nipples aren’t as flat as they should be—the little nubs in the center have already started to harden in her arousal, fueled by too many erotic daydreams over the course of her day and the chafing of her bra against them whenever she’s squirmed at her thoughts. For what seems like a full minute, she stands before the door, displaying her body like a frozen showgirl, breath fluttering with her eagerness for Peggy to take the bait. 

Then the door falls inward, and Peggy steps around it, hand flying out to latch around Angie’s wrist. There’s a fire in her eye that makes Angie have to bite back a moan, and Peggy jerks her forward with staggering strength. Peggy hisses under her breath, “You naughty girl,” but her rouged lips are smiling.

As soon as the door’s closed behind them, Angie purrs, “ _Your_ naughty girl,” and throws her arms around Peggy’s shoulders. She leans in for a hard, wanton kiss while Peggy’s hands slip into her top, the night already worth it.


End file.
